


you built a house just to call it home

by enbyreneewalker



Series: autistic andrew minyard [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Nonbinary Neil Josten, Oops?, Suicidal Ideation, They/Them Pronouns for Neil Josten, also im shamelessly promoting my stupid gay andrew agenda, also vague mentions of suicidal thoughts/ideation, andrew is just reflecting on his memories so, because i want him to be happy goddamnit but also its not magically going to happen, i edited this in two seconds so. dont come for my ass when its bad, i meant to post this on the twinyards birthday, its like one line but if thats going to trigger you be safe, like andrew does a lot of reflection on recovery and memories, lowkey angst, tw andrew's backstory i guess??, uhhhhh they get cats and its gay, uhhhhhhhh anyway enjoy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28180587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyreneewalker/pseuds/enbyreneewalker
Summary: Andrew shifted his hands so that he could pick King up. He cradled her against his chest, happy rocking side to side slightly when she continued to purr. Andrew looked up at Neil, frowning slightly at the smile on their face.“Staring, Josten,” he muttered.“What about it?” they replied indignantly. “This is adorable.”Andrew scowled at them. “I am not adorable.” They continued to look at him, their smile growing wider. “No, no. Don’t look at me like that, asshole.”“So cute,” they cooed, smiling even more. “Like a little teddy bear.”“257%, dickhead.”or; they get cats and andrew reflects on memories and recovery
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: autistic andrew minyard [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978960
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	you built a house just to call it home

**Author's Note:**

> just in case people reading this aren't familiar with my series: andrew is autistic, neil uses they/them pronouns and is nonbinary. i write these characters softer than in canon, because this is set post-canon where neil actually fucking goes to therapy and begins recovery and andrew has continued to work with bee and is recovering as well. i just want these fuckers to be happy, and since canon is not very happy, i have decided there is no god only me and my stupid little fic
> 
> also i barely edited this pls dont come for me if its bad
> 
> Also, to my readers who have commented/left kudos/subscribed, i love you with all of my dumb little heart and am so sorry this took so long to get out

The car ride from the shelter to Fox Tower felt long, far longer than it should. Andrew was clenching and unclenching his hands around the steering wheel, anxious to reach the dorm and introduce the cats to their new home. It had taken a while to outfit their place with supplies for the new kittens, with Andrew making sure that everything was perfect for them. The best beds, toys, food- you name it, Andrew did his research and found what was best for them. 

The two balls of fluff were screaming their asses off in the backseat, the noise grating against Andrew’s ears. He liked the idiots, but they were really fucking annoying when they wouldn’t shut up.  _ Just a few more minutes until we get home. Just a few more minutes until the asshats will shut up. Just a few more minutes. _

They pulled up to Fox Tower eventually, the cats yelling the entire time. Neil hopped out of the car, rushing to the back to get the kittens out of the car. A PSU football player heading out of the tower looked at the pair strangely, until Andrew looked at him. He left quickly after that.

Neil took Sir Fat Cat McCatterson’s carrier out of the car, leaving the door open for Andrew to get King Fluffkins. They walked through the lobby and to the elevator, with at least 10 more confused athletes staring at the “murder exy kids” carrying two kittens. By the time they got into the elevator and pressed the button for their floor, Andrew wanted to stab somebody. The only thing stopping him was King’s carrier in his hand. Andrew didn’t want to put her down, and it would be unfortunate if blood got onto the crate or on Sir. He pressed his back against the elevator wall, the cold from the metal seeping through his thin t-shirt and grounding him. Neil lifted their hand, leaving it resting a few inches away from Andrew’s hand. Andrew nodded once, resting his head back against the metal wall as Neil took his hand.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on feeling the air reaching every part of his lungs like Bee had taught him. The elevator doors opened, and Neil moved to take their hand out of Andrew’s grasp, but he instead gripped them tighter as they stepped out of the elevator and towards their dorm. 

Andrew kicked the door to their suite a few times, not willing to let go of Neil’s hand or King’s carrier. Aaron swung the door open after the 5th loud kick, an annoyed expression on his face as Andrew pushed past him, Neil following him into the room alongside him. They set the carriers down, pushing them against the wall so that they were out of the way. The cats had started quieting down, and setting them on the ground seemed to help shut them up. Andrew sat on the floor a bit away from the kittens, not facing them directly, and opened the cages. Neil sat next to him, a few of the cat toys the pair had bought in their hands. 

Andrew took out a small stim toy to use while waiting for the kittens to come closer. The metal rings clinking against each other made a nice noise, and he got caught up in the way it made his brain feel. It brushed through the static, quieting everything else around him as his focus narrowed down to the feel of the metal on his hands and the jingle of the rings. He felt something brush against his leg, and looked towards it.

He looked over to see King staring at his hands, seemingly fascinated by the noise the stim toy made. She stumbled closer, and he held out the toy for her to inspect. King sniffed at it, before pulling her head away. Andrew slowly reached his hand out, and when she didn’t shift away, he began to pet her. She was soft, extremely so, and  _ tiny. _ As he ran his fingers through her furry, she began to purr, the vibrations shaking her little body. He tapped his fingers against his legs in a bit of excitement, running his hands through King’s soft fur. Even earlier that year, Andrew would never have allowed himself to show that excitement, or even let himself feel it. He shoved it down, down, down, because why wouldn’t he? Everybody who had been in his life had used that happiness against him. It was a weakness, it was a gap in his armor. But now, he was getting better. And he  _ wanted _ to get better. For so long, he had been in the deep, dark, terrifying places of his mind, and didn’t see the issue with it. Why should he get better? He would probably be dead soon enough. Why should he care about  _ getting better?  _ But now, life was getting better. He had reasons to live. He had reasons to live, he had reasons to recover. 

Andrew shifted his hands so that he could pick King up. He cradled her against his chest, happy rocking side to side slightly when she continued to purr. Andrew looked up at Neil, frowning slightly at the smile on their face. 

“Staring, Josten,” he muttered.

“What about it?” they replied indignantly. “This is adorable.”

Andrew scowled at them. “I am  _ not _ adorable.” They continued to look at him, their smile growing wider. “No, no. Don’t look at me like that, asshole.”

“So cute,” they cooed, smiling even more. “Like a little teddy bear.”

“257%, dickhead.”

They smiled even wider, scooting over to sit closer to Andrew. Neil stopped a little bit away from him, leaning in and stopping a few inches away. Andrew closed the distance and kissed them softly, rearranging his grip on King, and cradling their face with one hand. Neil jumped suddenly, making Andrew pull back to see what was wrong, concerned. He followed their line of sight, seeing Sir standing by Neil’s leg. She meowed softly, more of a squeak than anything else. Neil smiled and held a hand out to her, which she immediately headbutted and started to rub against. Laughing at how eager she was for attention, Neil put down the cat toys in their hands and began to scratch around her ears and face.

Andrew looked over at Neil, and, just for a second, his breath caught in his lungs. They had a stupid goofy smile on their face, the scars marking their cheeks curving along with it. The late afternoon sunlight made their hair catch fire, their hair like flames as it framed their face. Eyes that glowed like glacial ice froze Andrew in place, the love and adoration in their eyes as they looked at Sir softening Andrew’s heart, much more than he would like to admit. The light shone on their skin and made them glow, like they were a star barely contained in the skin of a human. If he didn’t know better, Andrew would believe he was in the presence of a god.

“Staring.”

Andrew blinked, taking a second to come back to reality before registering what Neil said. “Fuck off,” he grumbled. Maybe he could’ve been a bit more articulate, but his brain was deciding to be stupid. And gay. Sue him.

Neil responded, annoyingly in tune with what he was thinking. “What an eloquent response.”

“... Fuck off.”

Neil laughed, head tipped backward slightly and eyes closed. Their laughter was melodic, a gravelly yet simultaneously rich sound that Andrew cherished on the special occasions he heard it. Neil was still settling into life not on the run, and healing from it as well. While smiles and laughter just for the sake of smiling and laughing were heard more often than when they first arrived, Andrew still committed every smile and laugh he had the privilege to hear to memory.

In his mind, he had built a house of memories. It was small, built from worn stone and covered with ivy and vines. There was a forest of evergreens surrounding it, the sharp smell of tree sap in the air. He didn't always choose when he visited, what room he was in, what memories were there, but he tried his best to create special places for his  _ good _ memories.

In the entryway, the smell of hot chocolate wafted through, the (now) pleasant memories from his sessions with Bee hung on the walls. Her voice, neutral, yet blunt when she called him out on his bullshit and the taste of too-hot hot chocolate on a burnt tongue would reach him, the comfort of remembering a safe space relaxing even the most tense shoulders. 

The living room was connected, a worn, soft leather couch covered in fluffy, soft blankets taking up space against a wall. In this room, there were memories of Neil. The moments where they became  _ something _ instead of  _ nothing _ were hung in simple frames of dark wood over the couch, the soft smile in Neil’s eyes as they looked at him in smaller frames peppering the spaces inbetween. Bookshelves on the wall overflowing with worn spines, books filled with memories of Neil’s words from the first “fuck you” to the comfortable banter they exchanged on the dorm room floor. Their laughter rang through the room, like bells through small town streets on the turn of the hour. 

In the kitchen, memories of his family were placed throughout. There was Nicky, memories of him doing his best to cook dinner for the twins near the stove, memories of the always burnt food on the table. Alongside the food was memories of seeing Aaron work on homework at the island bar when Andrew wandered into the kitchen late at night, the bad memories pulling him out of the good rooms and into the dark. He never asked Aaron what he was doing, and in return, he never asked Andrew what he was doing. He would just reach for the ice cream tub Andrew had dug out of the freezer, digging a spoon into it while Andrew looked on, too tired to even bring a scowl to his face. 

A small dining room adjoined to the kitchen, 12 chairs squeezed along the table. Each spot had memories for each person that had made their way into his life, however much he fought against it. Wymack was at the head of the table, gruff, harsh words but kind glances, what seemed like exasperated acceptance but what Andrew had realized was instead something almost like fatherly love filling the space where he would sit. Abby was next to him, post-game memories of sitting in her office that would almost be pleasant if he hadn’t been going through withdrawal, meals eaten around her kitchen table over the summer, iced lemonade in the fridge poured into glasses for afternoons spent sitting on her back porch. On her other side was Betsy’s place setting, her quiet, observant air filling the space, kind but no-bullshit words and sunlight reflecting rainbows onto the wall from glass figurines lined up oh-so perfectly. Around the table were more memories from the rest of the foxes, game day smiles and movie night jokes, the smell of the floor polish used on the court and the weight of a goalie racquet in his hand. 

The upstairs was a place he went only in flashbacks and nightmares. Memories were shoved into a small, dusty bedroom, only a bed frame with a bare mattress and a nightstand inside. Under the bed were boxes, boxes he duct taped over until the worst memories inside were locked in. Sometimes, they managed to seep through the cracks in the tape. On these days, rainstorms surrounded the house, thunder that sounded like screams and rain that felt like knives against his wrists. Every creak of the house was danger, every howl of the wind threatened to knock the house over, to destroy his place in the world that he had fought tooth and nail to carve out and keep himself alive for. Sometimes, he could drag himself downstairs, back to the kitchen, back to the living room. Sometimes, he had to allow someone in and help him downstairs, to sit him down on the worn couch with a weighted blanket around his shoulders and a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, had to remind him why he had fought so hard to survive, remind him that he had reasons to survive.

Neil brought him out of his thoughts, cooing at Sir as they lifted her into their arms. They looked up at him, the smile in their eyes making Andrew’s body relax just a bit, his shoulders slipping down.

“What is it?” they asked.

“Sandpaper. You are stunning. Are you eyes? Yeah I’d commit crimes for them.” Andrew said, deadpan.

Neil snorted, burying their face in their free hand as they dissolved further into laughter. Sir meowed at him, squeaky and high-pitched, for disturbing her as she rested against their chest. They looked down at her, an apologetic smile on their face as they softly kissed the top of her head. They softly scratched her head, smiling as she started purring. 

As Andrew sat looking at Neil and Sir, content to watch Neil hold her and laugh as she played with his hoodie strings, new places were created in his memory-house. In the living room, cat toys littered the floor, fabric mice and a cactus scratching post, an elaborate resting tree next to the window. In the kitchen, bowls of food and water appeared, and more cat toys were on the tile floor. The sound of squeaky meows floated through the space, memories of rough purrs and soft fur in a cardboard box set on the island, placed down for the cats to sit in if they pleased. Andrew took in the memory-kitchen. So quickly you could blink and miss it, his lips curled up, the smile that was often hidden in his eyes for only Neil to see reaching the rest of his face.

**Author's Note:**

> "sandpaper. you are stunning. are you eyes? yeah i'd commit crimes from them" is from several typos made in the aftf server that makes me cry laugh every time i think about it. also i love the idea that the foxes have a groupchat so,,, i just put it in there like it's an inside joke from the foxes groupchat because i think im funny
> 
> also im so sorry this came out late! executive dysfunction has been an absolute BITCH and i've been struggling to get it finished, which is also why it's barely edited. i am so sorry yall 
> 
> anyway, if you want any more of my silly little thoughts and ideas, follow me on tumblr at enbyreneewalker.tumblr.com !


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